When Duty Calls
by scubysnak
Summary: AU piece. Sara Sidle, a former Secret Service agent, is hired by Sam Braun to protect his daughter, Catherine Flynn, after she's received threats against her life. Ch 11 up.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em…

**A/N:** AU is not my thing, but Immi asked for it. Who am I to deny a leprechaun her wish?

Rest and rehab had been the strict orders given to her by her doctor. Neither were viable options when the Commander-in-Chief said he needed her to do this favor for a friend. She really wasn't interested in the job. _A favor_, he had said, _for a friend_. What he should have said was that his largest campaign contributor needed a hired gun. It's not like she could have said no in either instance.

She had been relieved of duty and had plenty of time on her hands. No, it's not like she could have said no. She had spent five years with the Secret Service and the last two had been spent on the president's detail. To be specific, she was charged with protecting the President's daughter.

It had always been her experience that when the shit hit the fan, she was usually standing right in front of it. Protecting the president's daughter had been no different. She had thought that despite the circumstances, taking two bullets and saving the young woman's life might have garnered her some modicum of dedication. After all, in the 140 year history of the Service only a handful of agents had ever even taken a bullet for someone they were charged with protecting.

That was what she had expected. And that's why she found herself standing outside of the glitzy and brightly lit casino along the Vegas strip. As the valet stuck a ticket in her hand and drove off in her rental car, she studied the people bustling into the entrance of the casino.

She didn't quite fit in among all the tourists that passed by her. In fact, standing there in her dark pants and matching jacket with a button down shirt, she looked like a cop. The Ray-ban glasses that protected her eyes from the desert sun did little to offset the image. If she took this job, the first thing she'd need to do is blend in a bit more.

She took the glasses off and tucked them into an inside pocket of her jacket as she pushed past the revolving door in the lobby of the hotel that adjoined the casino. She approached the front desk and was greeted by a Barbie doll named Gwynne. The Barbie smiled politely, "May I help you?"

Sara tucked a stray lock behind her ear and spoke, "I'm here to see Sam Braun. Sara Sidle."

The Barbie nodded her head and picked up the handset, pressed a few buttons and spoke in hushed tones to whoever was on the other end of the phone. She set it down and pointed toward the elevator. "Top floor. He's expecting you."

Sara just nodded in the Barbie's direction before heading toward the elevator. Once inside, she pressed the button for the top floor and headed slowly up to face Sam Braun.

She had done her homework before boarding a plane and flying to Vegas. She still had some friends in the Service who thought she had gotten a raw deal. Unfortunately, they didn't know all the details. Had they known everything, they might have felt differently.

The name hadn't been entirely foreign to her. Sam Braun was one of the biggest names in Vegas once upon a time. He had a sordid past and was linked to organized crime. He had managed to avoid prosecution in several murders despite solid evidence having existed at one point or another. He had a pair of sons—one of which had been murdered by the other. And then there was the daughter. The illegitimate daughter he had sired with a showgirl.

The list of enemies Braun had was second only to the money he had made over the years. The man indulged in excess. His home was beyond that of opulence. The vehicles, the women, the airplanes—while within his financial means, they were unnecessary and in Sara's opinion, wildly decadent.

What had intrigued her was the amount of information that came to light in relation to the daughter, Catherine Flynn. Although her parentage was apparently the worst kept secret in Vegas, she had never taken her father's last name. She had certainly inherited her looks from her showgirl mother. Sara's contacts had been able to supply a more than ample number of photos. She was always on the arm of a different man and various social gatherings. Little information existed on her professional pursuits. There was, however, according to the files, adequate information and more than enough suspicion that Catherine was little more than a high dollar whore.

The elevator doors opened and Sara stepped into the lavishly decorated penthouse that Sam Braun used as an office. No sooner had she stepped into the room than two hulking specimens of manhood pressed her against the wall and began to pat her down. One quickly removed the gun from her leg holster and the other removed her primary weapon from her shoulder holster. They released their respective grips and she was quick to point out, "You boys missed something." She then produced a knife from her belt buckle and winked as she walked further into the room.

"Ms. Sidle," a graying man said as he swaggered toward her with the confidence that only the rich and powerful possessed. He was both. That didn't intimidate her in the least. He took her hand firmly in his and shook with enough vigor to leave no doubt in her mind that he was the one calling the shots.

"Mr. Braun," she said as she squeezed his hand with enough fervor to relate that his men and his money weren't enough to bully her.

He pointed towards a seat across from his desk and she sat down.

"Would you like something to drink?" He asked as he placed a few cubes of ice in a tumbler and poured amber liquor over them.

She knew she was being tested. "I'll have whatever you're having."

He nodded and his blue eyes twinkled as he handed the tumbler to her and poured another for himself before sitting down opposite her behind the massive desk.

"I suppose George told you what I needed?"

"He was very vague, Sir. He only said that a friend needed a favor," she explained as she finished off the last of her drink and sat the now empty glass down on a table beside her.

"A favor for a friend, eh?" He laughed at the idea of him actually being friends with the president. "I do need a favor. And I need this to be handled discreetly. The men I usually use aren't in a position to really carry out this particular job. I need someone with a ….softer…..touch."

"Specifically a woman?" Sara asked.

"Specifically a woman who could take a man down and do so without my little girl getting hurt," he corrected her. He took note of the change in her expression. "I did my homework on you, Sidle. I know all about the attempted kidnapping and the fact that you took two bullets to keep Jenna safe. I know it's your job to do that, but most people in the Secret Service never have to worry about pulling their gun, much less take two to the chest. You're made of the stuff I need."

She boldly stood, grabbed her glass and walked over and poured herself another drink. "Tell me what the job is—specifically."

"You're here to protect Catherine. I've been receiving threats lately. Normally, I just dismiss them because I have enough men around me that I don't need to worry. These last threats mention her. I've already lost two sons. I'm not going to lose my daughter as well."

"What types of threats have you received? How were they delivered? Have you told any of the local law enforcement?"

He picked up his tumbler and swished the ice around in the remaining liquid while he shook his head. "Ms. Sidle, you'll find that the fewer questions you ask, the better off we'll both be."

"I guess we're done here," she stood and walked toward the two men who had taken her guns and held her hands out expectantly. They stood stone-faced with their arms crossed over their chests.

A loud cackling behind her drew her attention. She turned back towards Braun. "Muggs is going to love you. You won't take any shit off of her. Come on back over here and let's talk details."

Reluctantly, Sara walked back and sat down.

"There have been phone calls—all made from disposable cell phones. There have been emails—all untraceable because they've used public access points to send them. There have been actual pieces of mail—untraceable as well. A ghost is threatening my daughter and I want you to protect her. You name your price and I'll pay it."

She chewed on her lip for a moment, considering the possible dangers and problems associated with working for Sam Braun. Protecting his daughter would likely be the easiest paycheck she'd ever earned. Chances were that some crazy lunatics were just after a quick score and thought the easiest way to accomplish that would be to threaten his daughter—thinking that because he has more money than God he'd pay up to keep her out of any possible harm.

"Does she know about the threats? Does she know you're hiring me to protect her?"

He shook his head. "She knows and she's less than thrilled. She's afraid you'll cramp her style. My daughter, well, she has a line of business that calls for and demands discretion. I don't approve, mind you, but she's happy and that's all that matters."

"In other words, she's a whore?" Sara asked bluntly.

"That's certainly one way of looking at it, Ms. Sidle. She—and I—prefer to think of it as the service industry. She provides a service that certain gentleman of influence—and affluence—seek," he attempted to paint his daughter as a woman who merely clung to the arm of distinguished gentlemen.

Her curiosity not quite sated, she couldn't help but ask, "Why me? Why not one of your goons?" She hitched her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the men who had frisked her when she walked off the elevator. "Why not some off-duty cop? Or someone from a private security company?"

He stood up and walked toward her, holding his hand out to help her from her seat. They walked toward the elevator. He slid a piece of paper into her hand and said, "Because you're the right person for the job. That's her address. She's _not_ expecting you. See Cleo downstairs. She'll set you up with a credit card, a room and whatever else you need."

The two men she had previously referenced as goons handed her guns and knife back to her. As the doors were shutting, he simply said, "Don't let me down, Ms. Sidle."

During the quick descent to the lobby, her mind worked furiously to understand the situation she had just gotten herself into. She basically knew nothing of what the job entailed other than she was to make sure no harm befell Sam Braun's daughter.

When she stepped off the elevator and into the lobby she was quickly escorted behind closed doors and into the office of the woman she assumed to be Cleo.

The ebony skinned woman with blonde hair (obviously not natural) handed an American Express card to Sara. "This is yours to use while in Mr. Braun's employment. Use it at your discretion to pay for any expenses related to your job. That includes clothing, food, and other purchases."

She pulled out a bundle of cash and slid across the desk to Sara. "See me weekly for cash. We'll start out with a thousand dollars, but if you need more, just let me know."

She paused briefly and when Sara didn't say anything, she added, "Good luck."

Sara put the cash and credit card into her jacket pocket. As she slipped the sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and stepped out into desert sun, a valet promptly took her ticket and left to retrieve her car.

She listened to the hum of the city and wondered how she had fallen so quickly into this slum. She had gone from being a Secret Service agent charged with protecting the family of the President of the United States to protecting some lowly whoring daughter of a mobster.

She handed the valet a twenty dollar bill from the stack that Cleo had just given her and sank into the seat. She punched in the address on the GPS that was in her car and pulled into the early evening traffic of Vegas.

XXXX

After battling traffic for an hour, she found herself pulling up outside the gaited home of Catherine Flynn. She considered driving up to the gait and buzzing the homeowner to gain access, but quickly decided against that. This would give her an opportunity to seek out vulnerabilities in the security system.

She parked her car on the street and walked up to the gait. There were no security cameras in plain sight. There were no trees that hung over the gait and no other landscaping that would hide a security camera. They would definitely need to have some of those installed around the perimeter of the home. She walked along the fencing and found that it would be easy to scale it. Sara came to the far end of the fence and hefted herself over it, landing softly on the grass that sprawled in all directions around the home.

She stood and waited—anticipating dogs or an alarm to sound. When none did, she finally approached the home. She was able to walk along the outside of the house, peering into windows at will without any neighbors or the inhabitant contacting the local authorities or security company.

Satisfied that there were gaping security holes which would need to be addressed immediately, she walked up to the front door and knocked. She had given little heed to the cars parked in the driveway.

When polite knocking had failed to draw the attention of the woman who was surely inside, Sara leaned against the doorbell. When no one immediately appeared at the door, she tried the knob and found it unlocked. She opened the door and stepped inside.

While opulence had been the theme in Braun's office, everything was understated in Catherine's home—or workplace. Sara was unsure what label to apply at this point. A brothel wasn't appropriate since there was only one employee. Maybe there was a specific room that she worked out of—her home office.

She wandered into the living room that was decorated with warm colors and oversized furniture. The room looked like the offspring of _Martha Stewart_ and _Southern Living _after a one night stand.

As she was admiring a collection of books on a shelf at the far end of the room, she heard the padding of feet on the stairs. Normally, she'd draw her gun—just in case. Given the lax security and what she already knew of the woman, Sara didn't feel the slightest bit of fear.

Wearing little more than a black satin robe that barely covered her ass, Catherine Flynn froze at the bottom of the stairs. Sara could clearly make out every asset the woman possessed. The material clung to full breasts and curves that were the definition of womanhood. "Who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?"

Sara sat down on the couch that had obviously seen very few asses in its day. She bounced around a bit, looking for a comfortable position and trying to break-in the cushion she was planted on.

Catherine appeared incensed and walked into the living room. "I asked you a question. Who are you?"

"I'm Sara Sidle." Sara was never one for arrogance, but in this instance she made an exception. The way she stated who she was left no doubt in Catherine that she was _expected_ to know just _who_ she was and _why_ she was there.

Catherine's body language clearly alerted her to the fact that she did.

"I told him I didn't need protection. And I certainly don't need someone breaking into my home like some common criminal."

"You obviously need protection," she said cockily as she rested her ankle on her knee. "I was able to climb your fence, wander all over your property, and walk through the front door without so much as a nosey neighbor—or even you—realizing what I was doing. You have no video surveillance and multiple points of access. You're a victim waiting for an assailant. And that's why I'm here. Mr. Braun wants me to protect you. And he made it very clear that he didn't care one way or the other about your feelings on the matter. I suggest you get accustomed to seeing my pretty face because until the threats stop or the guys making the threats are caught, I'm going to be your new best friend."

Catherine rolled her eyes and stomped back up the stairs. A few minutes later, she came down accompanied by a man who, by all estimations was one of her clients. Departing pleasantries were exchanged and Catherine walked back into the den and sat down on a chair across from Sara.

Sara realized that this assignment—though she was sure she would be successful—would be the most difficult and trying she had undertaken.

Their eyes were locked on one another's. It didn't take long for Sara's stare to falter and drift to the exposed creamy thighs that were just begging to be touched.

Sara was swiftly brought back to reality by the blonde standing as she said, "Great. Just what I need—a fucking dyke following me around."

When Catherine was no longer in the same room as Sara, she leaned back on the sofa and covered her face with her hands. "What have I gotten myself into?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

Sara had succeeded in finding the liquor cabinet in Catherine's quaint home and was busy pouring her second drink when Catherine came back downstairs dressed in something more appropriate—jeans and a T-shirt. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders and had left wet trails in the cotton covering her shoulders.

Sara knew she was in the room. She could smell her. She had spent less than five minutes in the woman's presence but she was already firmly planted under skin. She knew the type—her type. A woman accustomed to getting her way and never being challenged or questioned. A woman that most men—and women—would do anything to be with for any amount of time. She knew her, but she didn't know her. And as she had made perfectly clear, she never would. Sara cringed as she heard the word _dyke_ in her head again. Few words had quite the impact on her that this one particular word did.

Still, she didn't turn and acknowledge her presence. Instead, she eyed the liquid in her glass and walked toward the window. She relaxed against the frame and stared out into the quickly fading light of the day. She could feel Catherine's eyes on her. More accurately, she could feel Catherine's stare boring holes into her back.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?" Sara asked as she slowly turned to face the buxom blonde.

"Probably until you get your ass out of my house," she responded wryly before turning and walking away.

Sara finished the last of her drink and decided to do a walk-through of the house before it was completely dark. She wanted to know what could be seen from each window and once darkness had fallen, she'd go outside to see what could be seen from there.

She clodded heavily up the stairs to the second floor and entered each room she came to. She walked to each window and took in the view and assessed where the blind spots would be. She secured every window's lock—none of which were previously latched. She tried the next to the last door on the right but found it locked. She noted that she would have to have Catherine unlock it so that she could check the scene from there. She went on to the last room on the left, the master suite.

The walls were painted a rich caramel color and the linens were a deep purple—almost black. The bed was stacked with pillows of varying shades of caramel, purple and black. Shimmering and sheer cream-colored curtains hung loosely along the windows, gathering in bunches on the floor. A king-sized four-poster mahogany bed dominated the space. Sara walked into the bathroom and smiled at the elegance that was Catherine's bathroom. A tiled-shower large enough for several people sat in the left corner. A claw-footed bathtub with silver French fixtures sat to her right under a window. She stepped into the tub and latched the window. She walked back into the bedroom and found a furious blonde standing there glaring at her.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" Catherine asked as Sara walked to one of the windows in the room and secured the lock. Sara ignored her query and brushed past her to the second window. After it was locked to her satisfaction, she turned and was slapped squarely across the face.

Sara didn't flinch. She just stood stone-faced with the reddened handprint quickly coloring her cheek.

"I don't want you here! I don't want you in my house! I especially don't want you in my bedroom!" She shouted at Sara.

Sara never took her eyes off of Catherine. She stared at her until Catherine's gaze faltered. Satisfied, she spoke. "I realize you don't want me here. And trust me," she rubbed her cheek, "the last place I want to be right now is anywhere near the likes of someone like you. But I was hired to protect you. It's my job. Surely someone like you can appreciate how important it is to do the things you're paid to do."

Sara's meaning didn't go unnoticed by Catherine, but she was unable to quickly formulate an acerbic response before Sara could continue. "If you really want to get rid of me quickly, let me do my fucking job. As soon as your father is convinced you're no longer in danger, my job ends. And then, you'll never have to see me again. Now, there's one room that was locked. I need it unlocked so that I can check the view from the window and secure the lock."

Catherine rolled her eyes and waggled her finger in Sara's face. "That's my…_office_. I conduct my business in that room. There isn't a window in there. So you have no reason to be in there."

Sara nodded her head, "Fine. I'll check the downstairs in a few minutes. These windows need to stay locked at all times. Curtains need to be drawn. You don't need someone looking in and being able to see what's going on. I'm guessing that there are several vantage points around your house where someone could lay in wait and take a shot at you."

She slid her hands into her pockets and walked toward the door, "Oh, and since I'll be staying here, I'll take the room there at the top of the stairs."

"You're what?" Catherine said in surprise.

Sara turned around and smiled coyly, "I'm staying here. The best way for me to protect you is to be here—to be with you—at all times. We need to sit down and discuss your schedule and cancel appointments with your, uhm, _clients_, until further notice."

"You listen here," Catherine moved into Sara's space and poked her firmly in the chest with a pointed finger, "my life isn't going to change just because you say it is. I'm not cancelling appointments with clients and you're not going to dictate my schedule. You'll have to figure out how to protect me without disrupting my life. And if you can't do that," she poked again even harder, "maybe Sam can find a real _man_ to do the job."

Catherine had managed to deliver another blow to Sara's ego. Somewhat deflated, but not defeated, she descended the stairs and checked the downstairs windows.

XXXXXXX

Several hours later, after she had walked the perimeter of the house and made notations about weak points in security and she had brought her one lone bag up to her room, Sara walked into the kitchen, the smell of food drawing her in like metal to a magnet.

She sat on a stool at the bar leaving several feet of space and counter between herself and Catherine. In the Secret Service, you were trained to be visibly invisible. You weren't supposed to hamper the movements of your charge unless you sensed a dangerous situation. But you were supposed to be visible enough to prevent anyone from conceiving of posing a threat to your charge. The situation Sara found herself in with Catherine was very different. She was on foreign soil and she didn't know the language here.

"That smells good," she decided that attempting civility instead of hostility might be the best way to win this woman over. She smiled warmly at Catherine. "Do you cook often?"

Catherine looked at her over her shoulder, rolling her eyes and snorting. Then she turned around with a wooden spoon in her hand. Before she could respond curtly (as she had planned), she saw the tired, worn look on Sara's face and thought better of it. She sighed heavily, "I don't cook as often as I'd like. I seldom have company." She attempted a smile and the gesture wasn't entirely lost on Sara.

"I really think we got off on the wrong foot here, Ms. Flynn."

"Catherine—or Cath—not Ms. Flynn. That's my mother. And you're right, we did." She turned around from stirring the contents of the wok in front of her and pointed toward the wine collect she had, "How about you pick out a wine for dinner and set the table?"

Sara was quick to comply, moving to the end of the counter and opening the door to the wine chiller. There were at least a dozen bottles and despite her attendance at innumerable dinners with the president's family, she'd never been asked to choose a wine before. Not wanting to reveal how very unsophisticated she was and ask Catherine for a suggestion, she just grabbed a bottle and set it on the table.

"Where are the plates?" she asked as she moved toward Catherine.

She used the spoon in her hand to point, "Up there."

"And the wine glasses?" Sara inquired.

"Right here," she gestured above the stove.

Sara stood behind Catherine and reached over her to pull two wine glasses from the cabinet. As she reached over the blonde's head, her body pressed ever so lightly against hers. Sara briefly closed her eyes at the sensation.

"Go ahead and open that bottle so that it can breathe." Sara was comfortable with instructions. One thing she learned in the Secret Service was how to take orders and do what she was told. As long as the orders Catherine was barking out didn't interfere with the job Sara was being paid to do, she'd handily accept them.

Sara had just finished setting the table and laying out the silverware when Catherine announced that dinner was done. She plated the rice and chicken stir-fry and brought it to the table.

Catherine eyed her as she poured each of them a glass of wine. They ate in relative silence until Catherine couldn't stand it anymore.

"You obviously know a lot about me. Enough to have these preconceived notions about who I am and what I do. But I know nothing about you. And that doesn't quite seem fair if you're going to live under my roof."

Sara finished her glass of wine and adjusted the napkin in her lap nervously. "What do you want to know?"

Catherine just smiled and cocked her head to side, "Everything."

"Wow. Well, let's see. Where do I start? I'm 32 years old. Originally from California. I was with the Secret Service for five years. Spent the last couple of those on the detail protecting the president's daughter. I was shot twice in the chest while trying to prevent Jenna from being kidnapped. I was relieved of duty after the shooting. Now, I'm here." She hadn't taken a single breath while rattling off the details that were pretty much public knowledge.

"There's more to you than that. I mean, is that all you are—the job? Tell me something about yourself that I couldn't find out by Googling you."

Sara thought for a moment. Was there really anything else to her other than her job? She obviously took too long to respond as Catherine rose to her feet, "Forget I asked. I don't know what I was thinking trying to friendly and make the best of a bad situation."

Sara grabbed Catherine's wrist firmly as she reached across the table to take her plate. "Wait. It's just…I'm not…I'm not comfortable talking about myself. I'm a cop—more or less—it doesn't make much sense for me to let people close to me—to let them know things about me because there's always a chance I'm going to be shot."

Catherine jerked her hand away, leaving the Sara's plate still on the table in front of her. "I bet you're a real doll in relationships then."

Sara hung her head briefly before gathering her dirty dishes and walking into the kitchen. "I'll do the dishes since you cooked," she offered.

Catherine didn't say anything as she dropped the dishrag back in the water and walked out of the kitchen. Sara was busy drying the dishes when she heard the chime of the call button from the gait at the end of the driveway.

She heard Catherine come bounding down the stairs and open the door a moment later, followed by muffled voices (one of them the distinctive bass of a male). She rolled her eyes as she realized that Catherine obviously had a _client_ tonight.

She put the last of the dishes away and did one last check of the locks on the doors and windows before climbing the stairs to her room. Luckily, she was several rooms away from Catherine. The last thing she wanted to hear all night was the blonde being fucked senseless by some well-to-do businessman.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

Sara had just finished toweling her hair dry when she heard the first noise. Although her first instinct was to grab her pistol and seek out the noise, she stilled her movements waiting for it to be repeated so she could figure out exactly where it was coming from.

When she heard it again, she pulled her jeans over her naked hips and slipped a black wife beater over her shoulders. As she slipped her feet into waiting sneakers, she grabbed her gun and checked that the magazine was fully loaded.

She eased the door open and slipped into the hallway. Her back flush against the wall, she moved stealthily down the stairs. She checked each room on the main floor and was in the kitchen when she heard a shrill scream.

She bounded up the stairs two at a time and ran the short distance down the second floor hallway to Catherine's bedroom. Before she could open the door, the sharp crack of leather breaking first in the air and then against flesh met her ears.

Without hesitation, she tried the door to Catherine's office. It swung open slowly, but with ease. As it did so, she stood with her gun at the ready, her safety off. A multitude of emotions swept over her as she took in the sight before her. There, clad in shiny, black leather was Catherine—a dominatrix if ever there was one. Standing with his arms suspended and chained above his head and his legs spread with a bar between his ankles was an older man. Though she didn't know who he was, she was fairly certain he must be someone important to have come in under the  
cover of night.

She saw Catherine's blue eyes flame and turned to leave, realizing that she was merely working. Embarrassment and something else filled her being. No sooner had she lowered her gun and switched the safety back on and turned to leave than she heard the crack of the whip and felt it stinging against her back.

She turned just as Catherine leveled the whip in her direction once again. Only this time, Sara caught the thin piece of cowhide from midair and yanked it hard toward her, pulling Catherine off-balance if only for a moment. The former agent pulled harshly once more and took it from Catherine's grasp.

She didn't utter a syllable as she turned and shut the door, returning to her room in possession of Catherine's whip. She briefly considered locking the door but decided against it because Catherine would undoubtedly have a key to any door with a lock since it was her home.

She sat down on the bed and waited in stilted anticipation. When would the blonde decide to crash through the door and throttle her? How should she react if—and when—she did?

Every sinewy fiber of her body vibrated as she tensed waiting for the door to fly open. It would come. She knew it. There was no possibly way a woman like Catherine Flynn would let this trespass against her go without some sort of reckoning.

Sara could stare down the muzzle of a gun without flinching and could take two bullets to the chest without thinking for the sake of the job. But the blonde scared her. It wasn't the sort of scared she got as a child at the thought of things that went bump in the night. It was a different kind of scared. And the fact that she couldn't put words to it scared her even more.

She sat there even after she heard two pairs of footsteps on the stairs. She sat there even after she heard the front door shut and a car drive off. She sat there even after she heard Catherine climbing the stairs yet again. She sat there even as she heard the footsteps stop just outside her door. She finally took a deep breath when she noticed the shadow cast by those feet disappear from outside her door. Another hour passed before she felt a semblance of safety. Still clothed, she tucked herself in the fetal position and held tightly to the whip in her hands.

She wasn't quite sure why she was clinging so tightly to the whip. Though she had only a fleeting glance at Catherine's office, she had a sneaking suspicion that of all the accoutrements in her possession, this whip might do the least damage to her body. She closed her eyes tightly, willing the scene from a few hours ago to pass out of her mind. She was unsuccessful.

Throughout the night images of Catherine sometimes dressed in black leather, sometimes dressed in nothing, danced through her head. She saw herself bound in the same position as the nameless man she had seen earlier in the evening. Each time, Catherine managed to do something different to her. And each time, she woke with a start. First, she had used the whip on her. Then she alternated between dripping hot candle wax on her and using ice on the most sensitive parts of her body. Sara had never been a passive lover, but she had never strayed very far from vanilla sex with the partners she had. Now, images fluttered through her mind that she couldn't even put words to.

XXXXX

Before the sun had broken the horizon, Sara had awakened from her fitful sleep. She tossed the whip across the room as she eased herself into a seated position on the bed. She ran her fingers wearily over her face and then through her hair. Her dreams, still very fresh in her memory, sprang forth and she jumped from the bed and pulled her tank off long enough to slip into a sports bra. She rolled the waistband of her pants down to her hips and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

She slipped quietly down the stairs and out the back door. A quick run would exorcise the images from her head—so she thought. She stepped into the cool early morning air and goose bumps quickly popped up on her exposed flesh. She performed a series of stretches, readying her muscles for the three mile run she'd put them through.

Satisfied that she was warm enough, she jogged around the house and to the front yard. In her walk around the property the previous evening, she had discovered that it was roughly three acres. By her quick estimation, three trips around the 'estate' would come close to a mile. She'd run it ten times to get in three.

Around lap three, it was becoming apparent why her doctor had warned her against overexertion. It had been four months since she had really gone for a run. And the first time out of the gate, she was aiming for three miles. It started as a slow burn, barely noticeable. By lap seven it was a throbbing ache. When she had finished lap ten, she was in so much pain that she fell to her knees on the carpet of grass just beyond the patio.

The sky was shimmering with the early morning rays of the sun as it stretched its red tendrils of light over the horizon. Catherine stood at her kitchen window and watched as the woman charged with protecting her fell to her knees. She had been watching, in fact, as Sara ran around the property. Ten times Catherine had seen her pass along the fence at the far end of her property. Each time, she had noticed her running form becoming more labored and that it took longer for her to complete a circuit around the property.

Now she stood in the kitchen window and watched as the younger woman was on her knees, heaving and trying to catch her breath. A few minutes passed before Sara fell forward onto her stomach and then rolled to her back. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Catherine walked outside, turned on the water and grabbed hose and squeezed the trigger, directing the spray of water at Sara.

One hand on her hip and the other directing the cold spray of water at the object of her loathing, Catherine couldn't hide the smirk that formed on her face. She watched in amusement as the exhausted woman in front of her tried fruitlessly to get to her feet. Slippery grass and weary muscles were the recipe for keeping her on her ass. She attempted to defend herself by putting her hands up to stop the spray of water from pelting her face.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Sara asked breathlessly.

Catherine released her grip on the hose, letting it fall to the ground. "My problem is that you're supposed to be able to protect me and you can barely run around my damn house a few times. When push comes to shove, if someone really does make an attempt on my life, how the hell are you going to protect me? Are you going to pant on them? 'Cause I gotta be honest with you, you're not really striking fear into my heart or inspiring trust here."

As Catherine looked down at Sara, she couldn't help but take notice of the scarred patch of skin that stuck out from under her sports bra. She couldn't take her eyes off of it. Slightly to the left, near Sara's armpit, she noticed a second, similar scar. "What happened to you?" she asked as she knelt down in front of Sara, fingers reaching out cautiously to touch the purplish skin. Sara jerked her shoulder away in anticipation of Catherine's touch and flinched in pain at the sharp movement.

Sara didn't answer as pushed herself to her feet. She glared icily at Catherine before giving her a wide berth and walking the short distance to the house. Without being told to do so, she pulled her shoes off and left them by the back door. She wasn't about to track mud into Catherine's flawlessy kept home.

Catherine picked herself up and walked back into her kitchen. Leaning heavily on the kitchen counter, she could hear the shower running upstairs. She picked up the phone from its receiver and dialed the familiar number.

"Mugs, what's so important that you need to call me at six in the morning?" the raspy voice of Sam Braun echoed.

"Sam, this isn't going to work."

He groaned into the phone, "Sidle is the best person to protect you—and the only one I trust to do it. I suggest whatever issue you have with her gets worked out soon because she's not going anywhere."

"But," she attempts to argue but it's only in vain as a dial-tone is the only noise on the other end of the phone. She slammed the phone back down on the cradle and walked tensely to the refrigerator.

She pulled out eggs and cheese and proceeded to make omelets. She had long ago heard the shower upstairs quit running. Catherine had hoped the smell of food would entreat Sara to come downstairs. She pecked at her own food waiting for the brooding brunette to come down. When she had finished her food and Sara still hadn't made an appearance, she poured a glass of juice and set it and the plate on a tray and quietly climbed the stairs.

She stood outside the door for a moment before knocking softly. The door was jerked open harshly and the look on Sara's face softened when she saw the tray of food. She turned her gaze back to Catherine but didn't invite her in or say anything. After a moment, her stomach began to growl and Catherine couldn't help but laugh, breaking the tension between the two women.

Sara held out her hand and took the tray from Catherine. "You didn't have to make me breakfast, but thank you."

Catherine couldn't hold her intense gaze and suddenly found her bare feet very interesting. "Look, Sara, about what I sa…"

"Don't, okay? I don't want your sympathy or you feeling sorry for me. You don't have to like me and you don't have to be nice to me. But what you do have to do," she sat the tray down on the foot of the bed, "is respect the fact that I'm willing to risk my life to make sure someone doesn't take yours. And the sooner you realize that, the easier this will all get."

Catherine was a bit taken aback by the way she was being spoken to. No one—absolutely no one—ever spoke to her like that. As she was readying a nasty retort, Sara continued to speak.

"Thank you, again, for the breakfast."

Catherine was totally disarmed. How could this woman reduce her to shreds and seconds later make her feel like she had done something wonderful?

The anxiety both women were feeling in each other's presence was interrupted by the buzzer signaling that someone was at the gate.

Catherine's expression was one of sheer surprise. She hadn't been expecting anyone—especially at this early hour.

Sara snorted and added, "Don't worry. It's not one of your client's coming in for an early morning spanking. That's most likely the A/V and security guys I called last night to set up cameras around the property."

Catherine's eyes, once a peaceful blue, turned into a stormy shade of sapphire before she slammed the door to Sara's room and stomped down the stairs to buzz the men in through the gate.

XXXXX

Sara spent nearly three hours with the AV and security guys that had shown up much to Catherine's disgust. The grounds had been mapped out and decisions had been made as to where cameras and various other surveillance devices would be placed to ensure Catherine's safety. She had just walked back in from seeing the men off when she found Catherine sitting in the den, reading a book.

Sara went and sat down on the table in front of her. Catherine raised her eyes from the book and just glared at her and down at the table she was perched upon. Sara grimaced and stood before she sat down on the couch beside Catherine, leaving more than enough space between the two of them to make them both comfortable with the fact that they were in such close proximity to one another.

"You could give me some warning before you invite men into my home to start making changes," Catherine said without even looking up.

"Funny, I thought you'd be accustomed to having men in and out of your home," Sara snapped as she awaited the wrath that was sure to be turned on her.

"Well, since you brought it up," Catherine sat her book down on the table and turned to face Sara. "I was working. And you barged into the room—the room I told you that under no circumstance were you to enter."

Sara stood and began to pace back and forth. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that work for you included leather and a whip. I thought you fucked your clients, not dominated them."

She knew that comment was out of line and as she turned to apologize, Catherine was standing in her space. She took a step backwards to put distance between them.

"You think you know me? You don't know a fucking thing about me, you pretentious butch bitch," Catherine growled through clenched teeth.

Sara had never been comfortable with direct verbal confrontations. She wanted to turn and run, instead, she decided to engage in a verbal tête à tête with the busty blonde.

"What's not to know?" she said as she stood her ground. "You do nothing but further the stereotype of the Vegas prostitute. You're a walking fucking cliché. Then again, there's nothing really too common about all that leather you drape over yourself when you're playing mean mommy to whatever bad boy is paying you for the night."

Catherine stepped closer and poked her finger in Sara's chest, "You wanna talk clichés. I have one for you. It goes a little something like tall, dark and gorgeous woman carries a gun. Oh yeah, she's a carpet muncher. Kinda goes without saying, doesn't it?"

Sara looked down at the finger still pressed into her chest before taking her hand and brushing it away from her. She studied Catherine for a moment and finally exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "You're right. I am a cliché. But at least no one is paying me to give away what self-worth and self-respect I have every time I show up for work."

Catherine winced as the words hit home. This woman…this pariah in her home…didn't mince words. On one hand, she hated that. On the other, she respected her because no one had ever stood up to her. As her brooding protector backed out of the room, she realized that no one had ever quite challenged her on the way Sara Sidle did. Something else was there, too. Something unfamiliar that she couldn't quite put her finger on. And that was the salt in the wound that made all of this so much more unbearable.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

_Sara spun around in time to see the masked man raise his arm, a gun aimed in her direction. She heard Jenna's scream in the same instant the bright flash came from the muzzle of the gun. As she fell backwards and struggled to raise her arm, her own gun in hand, she felt the piercing pain of a second bullet searing into her flesh, rendering her arm useless. As the masked man grabbed Jenna roughly by her blonde hair and yanked her out of the room, all Sara could do was scream._

"NO!" she screamed. She woke with a start, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding in her chest as she furiously gulped for air.

It had been the same for months now--nightmares waking her up in the middle of the night. And it was always the same nightmare, well basically the same, or some variation on the theme.

Sara fell backwards, her damp tank top clinging to her like a second skin. The pillow cradled her head as she closed her eyes and willed her breathing to even out. Even though she was awake, she replayed the nightmare in her head.

A soft knock at the door followed by, "Are you okay?" brought her back to reality.

When she didn't answer, the door opened tentatively, as she knew it would. There stood Catherine, looking sheepish and somewhat out of her element. She had her hair pulled back loosely in a pony tail, with a few errant strands flitting around her face. She had obviously been in bed or was getting ready for bed as she was wearing a black cotton cami and matching boyshorts.

Sara cleared her throat (and her mind) before sitting up in the bed. "Everything okay?" she asked hoarsely.

Catherine turned the light on and took a few more hesitant steps into the room and spoke again, "I'm fine. I just…I heard you talking when I walked past the door…and then I heard you scream. I…I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you?"

A flush of embarrassment crept across Sara's face as she hung her head in shame. She sighed heavily and answered without looking up, "Yeah. I'm just super."

Catherine shifted unsurely from one foot to the other before planting her hand on her hip and pointing to Sara with the other one, "We don't have to be enemies. We could at least try to get along."

"Getting along didn't seem to be something you were interested in a few days ago when you were busy calling me names and making rash judgments about my ability to protect you," Sara answered bluntly.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the pair as they stared at one another, each daring the other to back down.

"Who is she?" Catherine finally broke the silence.

When Sara only answered her with a blank and confused expression, Catherine continued, "Jenna. Who is she? You were saying her name and then you screamed 'no.' You're covered in sweat and obviously disturbed by whatever nightmare you're having. I assume she's at the heart of it. Who is she?"

"Please just drop this," Sara pleaded with her current tormentor.

The expression she wore and the stance her body assumed told Sara that this conversation was going to be had. She closed her eyes and dropped her head backwards once more into her pillow.

A feather-like touch on her highly-sensitive patch of new skin startled her. When she opened her eyes, Catherine was now standing over her, her fingers stretched out toward her shoulder where she had just touched Sara's still healing wound. Despite the haze that she was in, Sara could tell that Catherine was uncertain of her actions. She didn't offer an explanation, but dragged her eyes down the body that was so close to her. Catherine's eyes narrowed as she recognized the look that adorned the bodyguard's features.

"Is she why you were shot?" Catherine was refusing to let this go and it annoyed the young brunette to no end.

She bit her bottom lip and toyed with the idea of lying. The problem with lying was that you had to keep up with whatever you said because once you told one lie, you had to tell another to cover that one, and another, and another…and it was all too complicated. Honesty, Sara had found early on, was so much easier to deal with in the long run.

She pulled herself upright in the bed and leaned heavily against the headboard. She rotated her shoulder a few times to work the stiffness out of it. Looking anywhere but at Catherine, she answered barely above a whisper, "Yes, she is."

Her hostess sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, "What happened?"

She took several deep breaths to calm herself before she looked into pools of blue and said flatly, "Someone tried to kidnap her. I was the agent in charge of protecting her. I was shot twice. I got off a shot and killed the bastard. The end."

"I've seen a lot of shit in my day," Catherine smirked, "but I've never met someone who was actually shot." She reached out and touched the scar on Sara's shoulder again as she added, "I probably met a few that have done some shooting, but never one that was shot."

Catherine sensed that she wouldn't get much more out of Sara about Jenna and decided to focus on the scar. "Did it hurt?"

Sara laughed throatily, "Did it hurt? It hurt like hell. You know that burning sensation you get when you cut yourself shaving?" She waited for Catherine to nod before continuing, "It's like that, but only a million times worse."

She pulled the tank top to the side, showing Catherine the second scar, just at the top of her breast. "I guess the SOB wasn't happy with just one shot to the chest. The doctors said I was lucky. The first one barely missed a nerve which could have paralyzed this arm. The second one didn't penetrate the bone or else it would have perforated my lung."

Catherine looked at her quizzically, a question playing at her lips. She considered not asking it, but decided against that course of action. "I would have thought you'd have been wearing a bullet proof vest. Don't agents wear those?"

"Typically, yes, we…they do."

"But you weren't? Why not?" Catherine knew these questions were making Sara uncomfortable. The brunette was shifting under the covers and kept repositioning herself against the headboard. On top of that, she refused to make eye contact with Catherine.

When she didn't answer, Catherine was forced to draw her own conclusions. "Well, let's see. You're supposed to wear one, but you weren't at the time of the shooting. I'm guessing you had taken it off. Now why would you take off a bulletproof vest if you're protecting­­ someone important? Who is this Jenna, by the way?"

Sara still didn't answer. She just continued to look down at her hands, playing with the ruffle on the quilt of her bed.

"Secret Service agents protect dignitaries, politicians…" her thoughts trailed off and she looked at Sara with a shocked expression on her face, "the president and his family."

The slight twitch of Sara's eye when she finally made eye contact with Catherine told the story. "Oh shit, you were…Jenna…the president's daughter? I don't remember hearing about an attempted kidnapping though."

Sara pushed the covers off and slid out of the bed on the side not occupied by Catherine. "There's a lot of stuff that happens on the president's detail that never makes it to press," she said matter-of-factly.

She leaned against the window frame and stared out into the dark night. Catherine took the opportunity to look at the younger woman, now so vulnerable, standing before her. She was lean, but not unhealthily so. She had subtle curves and a tan body. She was caught staring when Sara turned her head back in her direction.

All Sara could do was frown as she said, "I never should have been involved with her. It clouded my judgment. You don't fish off the company pier. It's one of the first things they tell you when you're going through training. You're going to spend a lot of time with the people you're supposed to protect, if you get too close, you lose your edge. But you have to get close enough that you're willing to give your life for that person."

She wrapped her arms around herself trying to protect whatever there was she could of herself. "Jenna was sweet. She was spunky and full of life. I had always been hyper-focused on the goal at hand. The moment I started to feel something for her, I should have requested a change of detail. But I didn't. It almost cost us her life." She chuckled humorously, "It almost cost me mine." She rubbed absentmindedly at the scars on her chest.

"I wasn't even shocked when I lost my job. It was to be expected. I'd broken the rules and couldn't really be trusted on a detail again. Only a handful of people know what really happened that night. And I haven't seen Jenna since then. She's engaged now," Sara pushed off of the frame of the window and walked to the nightstand beside her bed and pulled out a prescription pill bottle, unscrewed the cap and took two pills out. She tossed them back without water and chucked the bottle back in the drawer and sat down beside Catherine on the bed.

"You never heard about it because the last thing this president wanted was his constituents finding out that one of his daughters had been screwing the female Secret Service Agent who was supposed to be protecting her. After all, he has an image to protect. Things could have ended up a lot worse for me than being stuck here protecting you," she said wryly as she placed a hand on Catherine's bare knee and then quickly removed it, struck by what a familiar gesture that was to do to someone you could barely tolerate—and even then only in short bursts.

As if she'd been poked with a cattle prod, Catherine sprang up from the bed and took a few quick steps toward the door. With her hand on the light switch she said, "You should get some more sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. We're going to a party." She flipped the switch off and shut the door behind her.

After pulling her sweat soaked clothes off and climbing back under the covers, Sara was left in the darkness with her conscience and her libido as her mind drifted back to what had been happening in the hours preceding the masked man entered Jenna's dorm room.

As the sleeping pills took effect, her mind flittered between images of the young blonde beneath her who was beneath her then and another blonde, an older one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

"So what sort of party is this that we're going to?" Sara asked as she downed the last drop of milk in her glass.

Catherine had fixed grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch. Comfort food, she had called it. As Catherine slipped the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, she explained, "Sam's having a party. Just a bunch of tight-assed, well-to-do society types."

Sara's eyes didn't leave the blonde, "I see. And how should I dress for this shindig?"

"I'm wearing a cocktail dress. Perhaps you should wear the same," Catherine suggested.

"I won't be caught dead in a dress. I'll wear a suit. Think that'll be okay?"

Catherine gave her a wink and nodded, "Yeah, that should be fine. A dark suit, right?"

"Always," Sara cooed. "Look, we need to discuss how this will work tonight."

Sara knew that she was possibly severing the apparent truce between the two of them with this question, but she had to know how Catherine expected the evening to go. Sara was trained to deal with the unexpected, but whenever possible, she liked to avoid it.

"Just what are you asking?" The tone in Catherine's question was flat, unemotional. She was toeing the line and waiting to see exactly what Sara wanted to know before she answered.

"I'm asking how you foresee this evening going," she reiterated. "It's not a complicated question."

The blonde gave her question little consideration before she cocked her head to the side and queried, "Are you asking if I'm going there to get fucked?"

Sara's eyes didn't leave hers. "Well, I suppose I am."

Catherine snorted and threw the hand towel down on the counter before opening her mouth to answer Sara. As quickly as she opened it, she closed it. As she bounded up the stairs she shouted back, "Be ready to go by seven."

XXXXX

Catherine had made it perfectly clear. Sara was to steer clear of her at the party. She was not to approach her. She wasn't even to walk in at the same time as Catherine; she was expected to walk in a few minutes afterwards so that no one thought they were together.

So Sara stood at the bar, perched on one arm, a ginger-ale held firmly in the other. While she watched the crowd with little enthusiasm, she was careful to always keep Catherine in her line of sight.

They had been there nearly an hour when a striking young brunette approached Sara at the bar. This did not go unnoticed by Catherine, who was now engaged in a conversation with a group of people.

From across the room, she noticed the shy smile that graced Sara's lips. The younger brunette, for her part, was obviously flirting with the older woman. Catherine could only laugh inwardly at the pair from across the room. Textbook flirting was going on and Sara seemed to be indulging the younger woman.

Every few minutes, the younger woman would throw her head back and laugh. She touched Sara constantly during their flirting session.

Catherine imbibed in another glass of champagne and dismissed her father when he approached her, opting instead, to interrupt Sara and her new friend.

As Catherine approached, Sara shifted her stance and smiled in her direction. The woman who had been occupying Sara's attention for the last half hour smiled curtly and nodded as she said, "Catherine, it's good to see you."

"Jordan Meyers, will wonders never cease? How's your court case going?" Catherine asked, please with the fact that she had managed a catty, snippy remark at the young woman's expense. Catherine stood a bit closer to Sara than was absolutely necessary, their shoulders brushing against one another.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," Jordan said as she touched Sara's arm. "Call me."

Catherine waited for the brown-haired girl to make her way across the room before reeling around to face Sara.

"Someone could have lopped my head off and you wouldn't have even noticed. That slut was all over you like some cheap…cheap…fur. You were so involved in flirting with her that you weren't even watching me. And on top of that," she pointed the glass in Sara's hand, "you're drinking."

Sara sat her empty glass down and laughed. "You've danced with two different men," she pointed each of them out. "You stood over there and talked for maybe fifteen minutes with that man and his wife. You took a glass of champagne from that waiter before Sam walked up to you. Then you came over here and insulted the young woman who was so happy to make my acquaintance." Sara leaned in closer so that her mouth was near Catherine's ear before continuing, "I notice everything. And for the record, it's only ginger ale."

Catherine, true to form, narrowed her eyes and readied herself for a fight. Sara was ready, but suddenly, the blonde looked around the room and, remembering where she was, relaxed her features, and walked away. Sara could only watch as she crossed the room, back into the waiting flock of socialites that were busy making idle and pointless conversation if only to prove their worthiness of an invite.

"Things not any better between the two of you," the deep voice boomed beside Sara.

She turned to find Sam now at her side doing as she was doing, watching Catherine.

"Being with your daughter is a bit like taking a long shower in a house full of people. Sometimes it's warm, and sometimes it's cold—just depends on whether or not someone steps in and flushes the toilet unexpectedly," she explained.

"I warned you that things wouldn't be easy. I still think you're the best person for the job, Ms. Sidle," he turned his back to the throng of guests crowded around the room and go the bartender's attention.

Reluctantly, Sara turned her back and leaned on her elbows against the bar. "I've had security cameras installed around the property and taken some other measures. Her 'profession' is certainly making things more interesting. You'll have to excuse me for saying this, but I can't believe you're accepting of her choice."

He finished his drink and then put the glass back on the bar. "What makes you think I had a say in it at all? Look," he said as he put his heavy hand on Sara's shoulder and squeezed gently, "the truth is, if I had known that damn Heather was putting all those ideas in her head, I'd have run her ass out of Vegas sooner than I did."

Sara turned to look over her shoulder and didn't see Catherine. She quickly turned, her back against the bar, and scanned the room.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked as he turned around, a new drink in hand.

Sara studied the room once more before answering quietly, "I don't see her."

He slapped her on the back and added, "Mugs is probably in the bathroom or making new business contacts somewhere."

Sara whipped around quickly in his direction, "We agreed before coming to this party that she would stay in the main room at all times and that if she needed to leave, she'd let me know."

"She's perfectly safe here. Someone would have to be crazy to hurt my daughter at my party. You're worrying for nothing, Sidle. Just relax."

Even though he was able to walk away without a care in the world, Sara felt like something was wrong. She walked toward the last group of people she had seen Catherine with and noticed a hallway with several people standing around. She smiled politely at people as she walked down the hallway and turned a corner. Over the din of the party, Sara could make out the bass of a man's voice followed by Catherine's warning that he was hurting her.

Without a second thought, Sara drew her gun and snatched the door open. She recognized the man as the one that was tied up in Catherine's office a few days earlier.

His focus on Sara and the gun aimed dead at him were enough of a distraction that Catherine was able to yank herself free of his grasp.

"Is there a problem here?" Sara said, never lowering her gun or taking her eyes off of the man in front of her.

Catherine moved behind her before speaking dismissively, "There's no problem here." Sara wasn't sure if her tone was directed at the man or her.

"There sure as fuck is a problem," he shot back. "I paid for certain _services_ and you didn't deliver on them." He punctuated his last statement by taking a step toward Catherine, who, although she was behind Sara and Sara's gun, stepped back when she saw his quick movements.

Sara reached out, grabbed the man by his lapel, stuck the gun under his chin and swung him around—all seemingly in one swift movement—pinning him against the closest wall.

"Here's what I don't understand," she started. "I'm standing here with a gun and you're still going to jump at her like you're going to do something. We both know that you have a wife out there, so why don't you take your sorry ass back out there to her before you go back less of a man than you did before you decided to fuck with Catherine here. And trust me, I've seen how much of a man you are, there's not much I could do to make you less of one, but I certainly would have a good time doing it."

She dropped the lapel of his jacket and slowly lowered her gun and backed away from him, still keeping herself between Catherine and the bastard. She holstered her gun, but never took her eyes off of the menacing man.

Once he was safely in the hallway, he straightened his jacket and tie before glaring at Catherine. "This isn't over, Flynn. You're not always going to have your goon protecting you."

When he was safely down the hall, Sara turned to Catherine, only to be met with the blunt force of a slap to the face.

"I don't need you to stick your nose into every little disagreement I have. I wouldn't have even had to deal with him tonight if it hadn't been for you the other night. You're…you're…just back off, okay? Just back off."

"I can't back off, Ms. Flynn."

"I know…I know…I know. You're supposed to protect me. How the hell can you protect me when all you do is make more trouble for me?" Her voice was raised, nearly shouting.

Anger was evident in Sara's voice when she barked, "Your chosen line of work makes trouble for you. That's all your doing. That's not my fault. If you weren't dealing with married men with everything to lose you wouldn't have to worry about sneaking around and hiding in dark rooms to discuss so called business matters."

Without thinking, Sara had stepped closer to Catherine, effectively putting her against a wall. Now, pressed against her, each was keenly aware of the other's presence.

"You're infuriating. You always have an answer for everything, don't you?" Catherine's voice was an octave lower. She bit her lip as she looked up at her chocolate eyed guardian.

Sara could feel her blood pounding in her ears and her heart beating feverishly in her chest. "Yeah, yeah I do. And right now," she ran her hand up the outside of Catherine's arm, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingers moving over the creamy skin, " right now, I'd like," she leaned a little further into her, "to get you out of here."

Catherine rose on her tiptoes, bringing herself closer to Sara's height, her eyes clearly darkening, even in the dim light of the room they were in. "And then what?" Her question hinted at wanting more and needing to know what Sara was playing at.

Sara brought her hand up to cup Catherine's cheek, "And then…."

Light flooded the room as they both turned to face the intruder who had flipped the light-switch. They quickly put distance between themselves.

"I am so sorry," the short woman blushed. "I was looking for my coat. I thought they were in this room. I'll just let you two," she motioned between the two of them as she smiled, "get back to whatever you were doing."

She hastily turned the light off and pulled the door shut behind her. The spell broken, neither woman moved back to their previous position.

Sara let out the breath she'd been holding in. "We should probably go back out there. Sam knows I was looking for you. Much longer and he might start to wonder if something was really wrong," she reasoned as she opened the door and motioned for Catherine to leave ahead of her.

"Sara, I…" Catherine started but was quickly silence by the hand held up and meant to silence her.

"Don't. Save us both the trouble," Sara looked down at her watch. "It's almost ten. How much longer do you want to stay?"

Catherine lowered her head and brought her hand to the back of her neck and rubbed it briefly. "We can leave whenever you'd like. It's been a long evening."

As they walked down the hall, they made sure to put more space than was absolutely necessary between the two of them. Sam nodded and raised his glass in their direction. Sara nodded in return.

Once they were in the car and had pulled out of Sam's estate, an uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

Sara never took her eyes off of the road ahead of her. She was aware of Catherine watching her and that the woman had opened her mouth several times to speak, but had quickly thought better and kept whatever thoughts she had to herself.

After a series of quick turns and weaving in and out of traffic, Catherine spoke up. "This isn't the way back to my house. Where are we going?"

"Someone is following us," the former agent stated coolly and matter-of-factly as she turned onto a road that led them out of the city.

With the glow of the neon city behind them and the bright headlights in the rearview mirror, Sara warned Catherine, "Put your seatbelt on." She looked over at the blonde who was trying to gingerly drape the belt over her lap. "Don't worry about wrinkling your damn dress. Put the belt on and tighten it."

Sara looked into her side mirrors and noticed that the car was closing in on them. "Reach into the glove box. There's a gun in there."

Catherine leaned forward as far as the cinched belt would allow and opened the box. She pulled the gun out and shut it back.

"It's loaded. Just pull the slide back…the thing on the top. All you have to do is point and squeeze the trigger."

"I'm not using a gun," she said as she attempted to hand the gun over to Sara, who was busy checking mirrors and looking over her shoulder.

"Dammit, Catherine. If they wreck us and something happens, you need to be able to defend yourself. It's easy. Squeeze the trigger. You can do this," Sara said as she put her hand over Catherine's and squeezed.

Just then, the car lurched forward.

The gun in Catherine's hands fell to the floorboard. A thunderous 'bang' echoed around the car as Sara moved the steering wheel back and forth, trying to keep them on the road.

Another nudge, and a scream from Catherine, and the back end of the car came around. Sara slammed on the brakes and continued to work the steering wheel to keep the car from spinning wildly out of control. When the car came to a rest, it was pointed back towards Vegas and the tail lights of the chasing car were growing distant in the opposite direction.

Sara took a deep breath and turned towards Catherine, who was sobbing uncontrollably. Sara released both seatbelts and pulled Catherine to her. The blonde promptly buried her head in the crook of Sara's neck.

"It's okay," Sara cooed as she tenderly rocked Cath back and forth while running her hand up and down the shaking woman's back. "Let's get you home, okay?" she asked as she pulled back.

Cath could only nod and stared out the window into the dark night. One thought careened through her head while they drove in silence back to her home—_maybe she did need someone to protect her._

They pulled through the gate to her home and up the long drive to the front door. Sara rushed to the other side of the car and opened the door, helping Catherine out. She picked the gun up from the floor of the car, switched the safety back on and slid it back in the glove box before turning her attention back to the blonde she was charged with protecting.

Catherine stood, staring at her door. Something about this picture was odd. When Sara climbed the few steps to the door, she noticed what Catherine was staring at. Across the door was the carved the warning _Next time we won't be so nice, bitch._


	6. Chapter 6

**I Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

Catherine suddenly wheeled around and shoved Sara solidly. Caught completely off guard, Sara stumbled backwards down the few porch steps.

Sara had never seen a woman look more distraught than Catherine did. Mascara stained her cheeks and her eyes were puffy and swollen. She'd been man-handled by an unhappy customer, chased by a car, had a gun go off, and now, her home—her sanctuary—the one place that was supposed to be safe—had been violated. Sara felt as if she had failed.

"You were supposed to keep me safe! None of this is supposed to happen since you're here," she screamed as she looked down at the quickly breaking woman.

Without waiting for a response, Catherine pulled her key out and stuck it in the door to open it. As soon as she did, the door swung open. She turned and icily glared at Sara once more, who realizing that Catherine might be in danger if she went into the house, quickly bounded back up the stairs and grabbed her tightly by the elbow.

"You can't go in there," Sara warned as she pulled Catherine down the steps and into the driveway. "Look, the door was open. You can't just walk in there. Let me go through the house and make sure everything is okay and then you can come in. Okay?"

Catherine stared hotly at her would-be protector before unceremoniously yanking her arm free. "I am not staying out here by myself either. So what do you suggest I do?" As Sara looked past her and to the car, Catherine anticipated her offering the gun to her once more and cut her off, "And don't even thinking about putting that vile thing in my hand again."

"Fine, I guess you'll just have to follow me in. But you have to stay behind me and you can't say anything—ANYTHING," she emphasized the last word.

Catherine rolled her eyes and pulled her shoulders back, "Whatever. Let's get this over with. I need a hot bath."

Sara reached around Catherine and opened the car door. After fumbling for a moment, she ducked back out of the car with a flashlight to face Catherine, who was now wearing a pained look of frustration. The brunette shook her head and took a deep breath before heading back up the stairs. Catherine was just inches from her as they stood at the threshold of the house. Sara looked back over her shoulder as she drew her gun and took an uneasy step into the house.

In one hand, Sara held the flashlight and in the other she held the gun her finger caressing the trigger lightly. She swept the light slowly across the room, her gun and vision honed in on the trail of bright light.

"Why can't you just turn on the lights?" Catherine asked in a hushed voice.

Sara didn't respond. Each step moved them deeper into the house and into the unknown.

"Don't you think you could see better if you'd turn on the lights?" Catherine asked once again.

They had moved through the downstairs and were now walking cautiously up the stairs when Catherine spoke again. "Not that it matters, but _I_ could see better if the lights were on."

Sara froze and spoke softly, but sternly, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to…"

"What? Let the bad guys get me? Keep going the way you are and I'm pretty damn sure they'll have me by the end of the week."

The desire to snap the neck of her charge had never been more fierce. Instead of succumbing to that intense desire, Sara finished climbing the stairs and went to the furthest room on the second floor—Catherine's "office." Sara stood to the side of the door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before cautiously reaching over and taking the door knob in her steady hand. She turned it slightly and trained her gun and light in the opening before pushing it open further & stepping into the room.

"Anything out of place in here?" Sara asked in a low tone.

Catherine shot back acerbically, "As I said every other time you asked me that, no. Everything is just like I remembered it."

Catherine turned around and walked out, Sara in step behind her. "Two more rooms to go," Sara announced as she walked towards Catherine's room.

As she extended her hand toward the door, Catherine moved in front of her and swung the door open and flipped the lights on as she smoothly stepped inside.

"Damn it, Catherine! What did I tell you?" Sara snapped as she stormed past the blonde and checked the bathroom, closet and beneath the bed.

"Find the boogeyman?" The blonde leered at her as she rose from her knees beside the bed.

"I told you to let me clear a room. You wanna get yourself killed? Wait until my job is done before you go suicidal. I'm sure there will be enough "customers" willing to accommodate your wish."

As she shoved the lanky brunette out the door, Catherine screeched, "Just get out of my room."

With the door slamming soundly in her face, Sara contemplated pushing it open and squeezing off a few rounds in the direction of the pain in her ass. That would certainly solve one of her problems, but might create others. Instead she clicked the safety on and holstered her gun. She switched the flashlight off and headed into her room, confident that she'd find everything in its place.

It was late; she was tired and smelled of gunpowder from the shot that was discharged in the car. She put her holster on the nightstand and stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

For what felt like an eternity, she stood under the steady, hot spray of the shower. She closed her eyes and let images from the night replay in her head. Catherine as she descended the stairs. The jealousy clearly splayed across Catherine's face at the party when she saw her talking to a younger, attractive woman. Catherine seeking protection behind her when she walked in on the argument. The feel of Catherine's body pressed firmly against hers before that woman interrupted. The sheer terror painted on Catherine's face when they were chased by that car. The anger that rolled off of her when she saw her door. Nothing was lost on Sara.

Finally, the water turned icy and Sara climbed out, grabbed a towel and began to dry herself. She looked up and noticed the 'note' left for her in a foggy mirror.

'I can get to her anytime I want & you can't stop me.'

Her stomach dropped and her blood turned to ice.

The icy feeling in the pit of her stomach didn't subside and as the water on her skin cooled and dried, it left her old. She stood there and stared blankly into the mirrored warning. She had a hard time believing that the message had been directed at her and not left for Catherine. The wheels immediately began to turn as she contemplated this turn of events. After a brief moment of hesitations, she raised her hand, pressed it flat against the mirror and wiped the caveat away.

**A/N: Sorry this is so short and sorry it's taken so long to post something. I've been suffering from writer's block and real life. Once I get a decent number of reviews, I'll write some more and post it. hint, hint**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

Days had passed with very little to no interaction between Sara and Catherine. It had been business as usual on both accounts. Sara oversaw the installation of a new door and additional security cameras around the property. For her part, Catherine had gone back to "work," choosing to throw herself completely into it in an effort to forget (or ignore) the looming threat against her.

Simple niceties had passed between the pair. Meals had been shared. But both women had immediately forged seemingly impenetrable facades to protect themselves from the current situation (and apparent attraction).

So it was on a Thursday, nearly a week after the big mêlée that Sara sat alone in the room she was living out of reviewing footage of the previous day that she discovered one of the newly installed cameras pointed directly at the pool instead of further into Catherine's "estate." She put the playback on high speed to quickly move through the footage. Day turned to night on the tape and eventually shadowy movements off-camera drew her attention. She slowed the playback to normal speed as waves began to lap at the edge of the pool where someone had obviously stepped into it. Seconds later, Catherine swam into view followed closely by distinctly male figure. Sara was quick to notice that even in the dim lights surrounding and in the pool, both of these late night frolickers were naked.

Sara sat upright and leaned forward in her seat. She could only assume that this was one of Catherine's "clients" and that she had "worked" last night. She hadn't recalled Catherine working last night but that pestering thought quickly faded as she watched the redhead swim to the side of the pool with her swimming mate following in her wake. Catherine turned around to face the lean, dark haired man now pressing her against the wall of the pool. Sara grimaced as the realization struck her that she would be unable to see Catherine's face while this aquatic mambo was taking place. That knowledge, however, didn't force her to fast forward through the section of the video.

She watched in silence as the man lifted Catherine slightly and reversed their positions. Unwittingly, a smile graced Sara's face as she shifted in her seat to ease the throb that she was now becoming keenly aware of. Sara bit her lip as Catherine's head fell backwards, exposing her neck to her partner. She watched with rapt attention as Catherine bobbed slowly up and down in the water. As the water rippled around Catherine's tan body and without taking her eyes off the screen, Sara slid her hand inside her shorts. Just as her finger grazed her clit, there was a knock at the door.

In one swift move, she removed her hand from its damp confines, paused the video and minimized the screen. Before she could grant entrance to who was undoubtedly Catherine, the door swung open and Sara sprang to her feet.

Catherine cocked her head to the side, "Did I interrupt something?"

Sara ran her clean hand through her hair and shrugged before shaking her head and squeaking out, "No."

A smirk that can only be described as a shit grin slowly made its way across Catherine's face before Sara spoke again.

"Was there something you needed, Ms. Flynn?"

Catherine stood silent for a moment taking in the flush that was painting Sara's features. "Uh, yeah. I noticed last night that there were two floodlights out on the rear of the house. Do you think you could…"

"Where are the replacement bulbs?" Sara cut Catherine off as she moved around from behind the desk she was standing behind.

As Catherine moved aside to let Sara out of her room, she mumbled, "Under the kitchen sink."

When the lanky brunette had stepped from the final stair and out of sight, Catherine moved behind the desk and with a couple of clicks, saw exactly what Sara had been watching when she knocked.

Catherine's jaw fell when she saw her naked self--in the pool—with who else but the pool guy. Anger immediately flooded her senses but was quickly replaced by arousal. Sara had been watching her and she had obviously been turned on. It didn't take a genius to recognize the signs. Her eyes had been dilated. Her skin was flush. And notwithstanding her attempts to hide it, Catherine had noticed the glistening moisture barely evident on her fingers.

She was smart enough to leave the computer as she had found it, but was formulating a plan as she walked down the stairs with a bit of a bounce in her step.

_Later the next day…_

Sara was jogging around the property as was her twice daily routine now and Catherine was lounging in the pool. When Sara was done with her jog she walked past the pool and into the house, unaware that Catherine hadn't taken her eyes off of her since she entered her line of sight. She had, nonetheless, taken notice of the fact that Catherine was topless in the pool.

From her dinner conversation with Sara the previous evening, she knew her routine. She'd go jogging, have a quick shower and then review the security tapes for the next few hours. Catherine had chosen to remove her bikini top betting on the fact that Sara would rush upstairs and watch the live feed from the camera that was pointed down at the pool.

When Sara reached her room, she flipped open her computer and pulled up the camera that she had watched the video from the previous day. There, now completely naked, was Catherine. The first thing that Sara noticed was that Catherine was not a natural redhead. She noticed that before she noticed the location of Catherine's hands. Both were busy cupping and massaging the ample and pert breasts that topped her damp chest.

Sara was unaware of her heavy breathing until she heard herself groan, "Oh my god," as she watched one of Catherine's hands slide down her firm abdomen. Her breath hitched when she witnessed Catherine spreading her legs and palming her downy blonde mound. When she saw those slender fingers disappear repeatedly inside Catherine, she could no longer contain herself and slipped her own hand inside her shorts and began to rub solidly up and down over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Sara felt herself nearing the precipice and wanted to hold off. As forbidden (and as wrong and as invasive) as it might be, she wanted to wait…for Catherine. She observed Catherine's body tense and subtly began to shake. Seconds later, Catherine removed her fingers from between her legs and brought them to her mouth. One by one, she sucked them into her mouth. Sara closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out her own release.

When she opened them, Catherine was sitting up on the float she had previously been lying on and her sunshades were pushed up on the crown of her head. She was staring at the camera and smiling.

_Oh fuck_ was Sara's only fleeting post-orgasmic thought. _Now what?_

**A/N: ** I know it's brief, but I needed to write something.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

**Chapter 8**

Sara immediately considered removing the footage from the hard drive, but something in her made her stop. She hadn't gone through all of the footage from the previous day and with the setup she had, she couldn't selectively erase things. It was all or nothing. And in this case, it was going to be nothing. The possibility existed that there was something on those videos which would come in handy when it came to protecting Catherine and that possibility was enough in and of itself to make Sara hang on to the videos when every fiber of her being and every ounce of instinct she possessed said to immediately delete them.

The rest of that afternoon passed in reasonable silence as the women had avoided each other. More to the point, Sara had avoided Catherine—leaving a room when she entered it, flipping her phone open to take imaginary calls and pretending to notice something through a window and going to check it out. None of it had been lost on Catherine. She was rather enjoying the fact that she was making the lethal brunette squirm.

Catherine had a "client" scheduled for that evening and was definitely busy with him. Not wanting to be privy to the cries of pain and pleasure that came from Catherine's "office", Sara settled on the couch in the den. The muffled sounds of a whip and Catherine's stern voice still drifted to her. She closed her eyes but images of Catherine topless or Catherine pleasuring herself fluttered on the backs of her eyelids preventing any slumber which might befall her. Before she knew it, half the night had passed. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the front door slam.

It was on her way back up the stairs that Catherine noticed her would-be protector draped over her couch. She hesitated a moment before stepping into the room and watching Sara sleep. The full moon was casting an eerie glow over dark features. Catherine knelt closer, glad to be able to observe Sara without the younger woman knowing it. Her features were sunken and she obviously didn't take proper care of herself. Still, there was something about the woman that was striking. Before she realized what she was doing, Catherine had reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Sara's ear.

As soon as her fingers made contact, Sara flinched slightly. A smile gracing her lips, Catherine pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over the lanky woman before turning toward the window. Something had caught her eye. She was certain she had seen a shadowy figure moving across her yard. She fought the urge to wake Sara and instead turned and headed upstairs. She was tired. It had been a long day and her eyes were likely playing tricks on her.

When she heard the barely audible click of Catherine's door being shut, Sara expelled the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She didn't know how long Catherine had been standing over her, but it made her uneasy to be the focus of someone's attention. Given the personal trespasses she had incurred against Catherine the last two days, she felt it tolerable, however unpleasant, to endure the woman's study of her.

When the morning sun broke through the curtains, Sara woke with a start unable to recall exactly where she was. She ran through the events in her mind…jogging, Catherine in the pool, getting off to Catherine getting off, Catherine's "client" and finally, falling asleep on the couch. As she pulled the afghan over her face to shield her eyes from the offensive light, she couldn't recall having covered herself…and then she did. She remembered how she felt like she was being watched after Catherine's "client" left and the touch of Catherine's fingers against her skin as she pushed the hair behind her ear and then finally, the caring gesture of covering her.

Groaning, Sara pushed herself upright and then stood. She folding the blanket over the back of the couch and straightened the cushions before walking into the kitchen. She was famished. Skipping meals to avoid any interaction with Catherine Flynn was not working in her favor. She stretched her stiff muscles as she opened the door to the refrigerator and tried to find something to stave off the hunger pangs.

It was in the kitchen nearly half an hour later that Catherine found Sara. The smell of cinnamon had wafted up the stairs and woke her several hours before she had intended to drag herself out of bed.

Dressed in a cut-off tank top and boxer shorts, Catherine sat down on one of the stools at the island where Sara was flipping French toast in a pan.

"Something smells good," she said as she rested her elbows on the counter and subsequently her chin on her knuckles. "I didn't realize you knew your way around the kitchen."

Deciding to go with the easy banter that Catherine had initiated, Sara quipped, "I have many talents you don't know about." She slid a couple of pieces of French toast onto a plate and placed it in front of Catherine.

Catherine looked up at her and batted her eyelashes before playing coy, "For moi? If I had slept a bit longer you could have served me breakfast in bed."

"I guess we'll never know now, will we?" Sara said as she took the first bites of her food. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure at the tastes that combined in her mouth.

Catherine couldn't help but watch as the brunette ate. "Should I give you some time alone with that toast or do you mind if I watch while you get off eating it?" She couldn't keep the humor in her voice at bay as she spoke.

Sara blushed and kept her eyes trained on the remaining food on her plate.

Realizing her discomfort and not wanting to dwell on it for the moment Catherine said, "You're certainly in a good mood."

Sara responded without looking up, "Why shouldn't I be? It's a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining. I slept well. I feel great."

"Is there anything in particular responsible for this good mood?"

Sara was never one for friendly conversations and was out of her element when they did come up. She took her last bite of food and the set about washing the dishes, ignoring Catherine's question.

After she was satisfied that Catherine had dropped her line of questioning she decided to start her own query. "So, did you have a productive "meeting" with your "client" last night?"

Catherine dropped her fork and food back down to the plate and slowly raised her eyes to meet Sara's. "I don't know," she paused before continuing. "You tell me. Did I?"

"Wha…how would I know?" Sara's dishwashing froze and she shut the water off.

"You have cameras all over the place. I figured you'd know my every move even when you aren't completely up my ass. Hell, you have so much a/v equipment around here a fly can't fart without you knowing about it," Catherine said as she pushed her unfinished food away from her.

"It's for your protection. There's nothing out of the ordinary about any of the measures I've taken to secure your property." Sara couldn't help the defensive tone her voice had taken. "Anyone hired to protect you that's worth a damn would have done what I've done so far." Sara slammed her hand down painfully loud on the counter and reiterated, "Anyone!"

"Why are you so defensive, Ms. Sidle?" Catherine asked as she stood and attempted to pull her shirt down to at least hide the bottom curve of her breast.

"I'm merely," Sara realized she was near the point of yelling and closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening and beginning to speak in a lower tone. "I'm merely explaining why there are so many cameras. It's just for your protection. I go through the footage and look for anything out of the ordinary."

"Out of the ordinary? Have you noticed anything _out of the ordinary_ in the last couple of days?" Catherine asked as she picked her plate up and dumped the remaining food in the garbage.

"Last couple of days? No. Then again, I haven't gone through all of the footage, yet. There are a lot of cameras since your property is so immense," Sara explained as she put some things back in the refrigerator.

Catherine was leaning against the counter with her arms folded over her chest. "So, do you watch these videos daily? And just what do you consider out of the ordinary?"

"What's with all the questions? Is this the Spanish Inquisition? Are you questioning my ability to do my job? Is that it? Do you think I'm going to miss something important and something's going to happen to you that I could have prevented?"

Catherine's voice remained even, "I haven't raised my voice. I haven't cursed. I've been down here, trying to enjoy this lovely breakfast you made and enjoy some pleasant conversation. What I don't understand is why you're so incredibly defensive. Have I said something?"

"No," Sara meekly responded.

"Have I done something?"

She shook her head.

"Then what? What's the problem?"

"I'm sorry," was all the brunette could offer as she turned to leave the kitchen.

"Sara, for the record, I do trust you to do your job. I mean, I know the videos are just for surveillance and nothing else and that it's important for you to go through them and look for anything that would help you keep me safe. Even if I don't act like I get that, I do."

Sara nodded and smiled weakly, paling a bit at the mention of the videos only being used for surveillance. "I think I'll get back to work. I should watch some of the videos from yesterday and last night."

Cath took a few quick steps toward her and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, "Can I watch with you?" She winked and added, "I love a good show."

"Those videos are boring and mundane. I'm sure you have more exciting things to do than to watch security videos."

Somehow, Sara needed to convince Catherine that there was no need for her to watch any of the videos. Right about now is when she was mentally kicking herself for not deleting the videos for the last couple of days.

The older woman brushed by her and started up the stairs at a quick pace, "You didn't seem so bored a couple of days ago when you were watching those videos."

"You know, I think I'll go for a run first. Then shower and watch those vids," Sara said as she turned to walk back down the stairs.

Catherine wasn't about to let her off the hook so easily. "You can go for your run, just cue the video up for me. I can watch while you're out."

Sara stopped at the sound of Catherine's voice. Catherine smiled warmly at the brunette as she turned the doorknob to her room and pushed the door open, motioning for Sara to enter.

"You know, there was an issue I wanted to talk to you about. Why don't we go back…" Sara's rambling was cut short by Catherine interrupting her.

"Is there a reason you're stalling here? Is there something you don't want me to see?"

Catherine's head was cocked to the side and she was studying the younger woman. She was well aware of the fact that Sara had watched her having sex with the pool guy and she was relatively certain that she had watched the show she put on for her yesterday in the pool. She was just looking for the perfect way to let her know that she knew.

"I just really want to go for my run. You know I go for a run everyday around your property. It helps me clear my head so that when I watch these videos they're the only things I'm focused on," Sara attempted to placate the woman who was in her protection.

"You can go for your run, just cue the video up and I'll watch alone," she said as she stepped into the room and sat down behind the desk.

Sara stood in the doorway. Her face was fixed with an expression that was a perfect marriage of fear and anger. She didn't speak, but instead just engaged in a staring match with the older woman.

Catherine finally broke eye contact and reached for the mouse to the computer. "Fine, you can sit there and watch me fiddle with your little machine here while I look for the videos to watch. Hopefully I won't mess anything."

Sara took a quick step inside and nearly screamed, "Don't!"

Catherine's movements froze before she narrowed her eyes. "Look, I'm not the type of woman who likes to play games…outside the bedroom. So cue the fucking video now."

"My computer is password protected. It's an alphanumeric sequence that you'll never figure out in a million years. So you can sit there and fiddle with that mouse and punch all the keys you want, but you won't get anywhere. I'll cue it when I get back from my run," Sara said evenly and flatly as she turned to leave the run.

"Did you enjoy it?"

Sara turned slowly toward Catherine's voice. "Excuse me?"

"Watching him…how he fucked me in the pool…Did you enjoy it? I mean, that is why you aren't cueing the video for me to watch, isn't it?"

Sara didn't answer. She could only look down guiltily at the floor.

"And yesterday? Did you enjoy the show I put on for you yesterday? You finished your run and were as eager as a teenage boy with his first titty magazine to get upstairs." Catherine was now standing and slowly moving toward Sara.

"I don…I don't know what you're talking about," the younger woman said weakly as she briefly made eye contact and then quickly looked away.

"You sat right there, didn't you? You sat right there and watched. Did you enjoy the show I put on for you?" Catherine was now standing in front of Sara. She ran her finger over her clavicle and between her breasts. "Did you touch yourself?" Her fingers moved lower still, across Sara's stomach. "Did you get off watching me?"

Sara was mesmerized by the woman in front of her. Her voice was as smooth as silk and her touch was electric. She was transfixed an unable to speak. She couldn't believe that Catherine was talking like this to her and touching her.

Catherine leaned in close so that their bodies were touching and reaching down, cupping Sara's sex. Sara's eyes closed briefly at the contact and then sprang open. "Did you imagine it was you that night?"

At the sound of Catherine's voice, something in Sara snapped. She reached down and grabbed Catherine's wrist and spun her, pinning her to the wall. She pressed herself firmly against her. "Why'd you do that…in the pool….yesterday?" Her words came out in spurts as her mind fought to maintain control over her body. "Were you...thinking of me?"

Catherine broke out in laughter. "Thinking of you?? You're not even on my fucking radar, Sidle."

Sara jerked away from her harshly like she'd been burned, and in a sense, she had.

Catherine was still laughing as she stepped out into the hallway. "Don't fucking flatter yourself, kid. I get paid to give people what they want. And I don't think you can even begin to afford me."

Even after Catherine's laughter had subsided and the door to her bedroom had shut, Sara could still hear her laughing….ridiculing her. Catherine had taunted her. She'd played with her emotions and fucked with her mind when only hours before she'd sat and watched Sara supposedly sleep and had even touched her and covered her with a blanket. Those thoughts were still running through her mind when the smell of smoke began to fill her nostrils.

_**A/N: **__I know it's been a while since I've posted. I think my muse went on a permanent vacation. I really thought I'd spend my entire summer vacation writing and that hasn't been the case. Oh well, hopefully I've broken the curse and will be able to write now. It certainly hasn't been for a lack of ideas. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

Sara stood frozen and unable to move. It wasn't until she began to cough that she finally pulled herself from her daze and stepped into the hallway outside her room. Smoke was beginning to fill the upstairs. She heard the sound of glass crashing and walked back into her room to grab her gun.

Gun in hand, she moved quickly to the banister and looked down into the first floor. Flames were quickly spreading in every direction and when she heard glass break again, a whoosh of fire spread outward from the kitchen.

She ran back into her room and slipped into her shoes before sprinting across the hall toward Catherine's door. She turned the knob and pushed. It was locked. Banging got her no response so she took a step back and kicked the door in. The room was empty but even over the crackling of the downstairs fire that was engulfing the house, Sara could hear the water from Catherine's shower.

Without knocking to announce her presence, she swung the door open and jerked the shower door open.

"What the fu.."

"The house is on fire. Get out. Get dressed," Sara barked at as she reached past her and shut off the water.

The older woman stood there in shocked silence staring wide-eyed at the former FBI agent in front her.

"Now Catherine! This isn't a fucking game," she shouted as she left the room.

When Catherine came out, Sara had already opened a window and had taken the sheet from Catherine's bed and had it hanging out of the window.

"Hurry it up. We don't have much time," Sara encouraged.

Obviously indifferent to the hazard posed by a house burning down with her still inside it, Catherine asked, "Do you mind? A little privacy here?"

Smoke was starting to leak in around the door and upon seeing it, Catherine quickly pulled on her clothes and shoes and stood beside Sara at the open window.

"Crawl out the window and hold onto the sheet. I'm going to lower you to the ground and then I'll come down, too. Okay?"

Fear started to paint edginess to Catherine's features that Sara had seen before—sheer panic. "You expect me to climb out the window—from the second story?"

"It's either that or you can walk out the front door. Of course, you need to be able to walk through fucking fire to do that!" Sara said as she grabbed the woman and pushed her toward the window. "I'll have you. You'll have to jump down a foot or two, but you'll be fine, okay?" Her voice was much softer and soothing now since she was trying to get Catherine to trust her enough for the two of them to escape with their lives.

The blonde stuck her head out the window and looked down before pulling back inside the window and shaking her head, "No, I can't do it. I can't. It's too far."

"You have two choices. One, you stay up here and burn to death. Or two, you let me lower you out the window. Oh, and if you choose one, you'll do it alone because I'm going out the window—with our without you."

Her mind made up for her, Catherine hung one leg out the window and grabbed the sheet with her hands, gripping it tightly in her hands. Sara was holding the other end of the sheet as Catherine slung her other leg out the window and Sara began to lower her.

"Keep your eyes on me," Sara said evenly. "Don't look down."

Catherine was just below the point of being able to reach the seal of the window she had just climbed out of when the wood beside her exploded as a bullet pierced the house inches from her. Sara let go of the sheet and pulled her gun, firing into the distance.

She called out, "Catherine, are you okay?"

"Yeah," the older woman shouted back to her.

The brunette draped a leg out of the window and quickly pulled it back in as a bullet ripped into the siding of the house once more. It was only then that she remembered her laptop with the video footage that might help identify whoever had set the house on fire. She darted out of Catherine's room and into hers and grabbed the computer before dashing back across the hall. Flames were already beginning to lick their way up the stairs and into the hallway of the second floor.

"Catherine, I'm gonna toss the computer down to you. Try to catch it. We're going to need it, okay?"

Without waiting for a reply, Sara dropped the laptop out of the window and prayed that Catherine would catch it or at least prevent it from being shattered into a million pieces when it hit the ground.

"Move off to the side, Catherine. I'm gonna come down in just a moment," the brunette warned.

Sara took two deep breaths, kneeled in front of the window and looked out across the property to where low, thick shrubs ran along the fenceline.. She caught the glint of light being mirrored back at her. She knew someone was out there with a gun and a scope. Luckily for both Catherine and herself, they weren't a very good shot.

She fired four quick shots directly at the glinting light and quickly heaved herself over the ledge of the window and dropped to the ground in a crouching position to absorb most of the shock from such a jump.

For a fleeting moment she recalled the heated discussion with Catherine about the need to remove the shrubbery from around her house to prevent someone from hiding in it. This was one argument she was glad to have lost.

She reached back and took Catherine's hand in hers and asked, "Are you okay? I'm sorry I had to drop you. It was either that or let them shoot you."

"It's okay," the blonde target joked, "my ass broke my fall."

"Let's go," Sara said as she pulled the woman along behind her. "Stay low, behind the shrubs. Let's get around front and get in the car and get out of here."

XXXX

As they were pulling out of the driveway, fire trucks were beginning to arrive. Sara pulled over just outside the gate to Catherine's property, certain the police would arrive soon.

"You saw someone, didn't you?" Catherine asked as she clutched the computer tightly in her hands. "Before the last shots you fired, you saw someone."

"I didn't see anyone. I saw the reflection on a scope. Whoever is after you either isn't a pro or has some pretty incompetent people working for him."

When the third fire truck pulled into the driveway and a police cruiser still hadn't arrived, Sara put the car in drive and they sped off.

Catherine has tears running down her soot stained face. "Everything I had was in there. Everything," she began to shake as the tears flowed freely down her face. "Pictures, heirlooms, irreplaceable things OH MY GOD my shoes!"

On pure instinct, Sara reached out and placed her hand between Catherine's shoulders and began to gently rub small circles.

"I know it was. Some of those things can't be replaced either, I know that. But you're alive, that's gotta count for something, right?"

Sara pulled her hand back and took out her cell phone and dialed a number by heart.

"What happened out there, Sidle?" the older man asked harshly. Anger and fear were both evident in his tone.

"Someone set the house on fire."

"What about Muggs? Is she okay? She didn't get hurt, did she?" However Catherine chose to characterize the relationship with her father, the man obviously cared a great deal about her.

"She's okay. A few scratches and bruises and she's upset about her house, but other than that she'll live."

"Good, good. Glad to hear it."

"We're going to have to find somewhere to stay though. Do you have…" He interrupted her mid-sentence.

"What about my house?" he offered.

"Your house?" Sara said as she turned to look at Catherine, wanting her to decide if that was a step she was comfortable taking.

Based on the frantic headshaking coming from Catherine and the words _hell fucking no_ that were being mouthed at her, Sara knew they couldn't stay there.

"Yeah, I've been to your place before, Mr. Braun. I can't secure a place like that. How about a suite at one of your casinos?"

She hadn't yet taken her eyes off the blonde beside her and saw her nod her head yes in agreement with that proposal.

"Yes, that one will be fine. We're on our way now. Oh, and Mr. Braun...We're going to need to do some shopping."

Sara snapped her phone shut and turned her attention back to the road. She was cautious, constantly checking her mirrors and suspiciously eyeing any vehicle that drifted too close in the lane beside her, passed her or drove too closely behind her.

They pulled to a stop in front of the casino and before the valet could open Catherine's door, she turned to Sara and emotionlessly said, "This is all your fucking fault."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…**

_**A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus. Immi has insisted that I write on this and I try not to anger the wee one ;)**_

**­­**Sara was seated on the couch with a drink in her hand when the blonde wandered out of her room clad only in one of the hotel bathrobes. Her hair, obviously still wet, was bound around her head like a turban in a towel.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable," the blonde shot as she poured a drink from the fully-stocked bar. "You're obviously accustomed to less than finer clothing since you don't seem the least bit bothered by that mass produced track suit."

Catherine waved her drink in Sara's direction, indicating the burnt orange and green nylon track suit that the brunette was wearing.

Sara looked down at the hideous colored suit and nodded in agreement. Unlike Catherine, she didn't require several hours to shower and dress. They had been in the penthouse for more than three hours and this was the first time Sara had seen her since they'd crossed the threshold. Well, the second time. She had walked in Catherine's room and looked into the adjoining bathroom while Catherine was soaking in the tub—just to be certain that the older woman was still there.

"I think I went with the lesser of two evils, thank you. The white, purple and pink one looked much worse than this one. Why don't you go put on whatever the concierge picked up for you and we can go out and find clothing more _befitting_ your station in life?"

The blonde eyed the former agent before quickly downing her drink and sitting the now empty tumbler back on the bar and crossing the suite toward the room she had just exited.

"It's more than clothing that I'll require at this point. I have nothing. No makeup. No hair supplies. No jewelry. No lingerie. And shoes. I have no shoes. Do you understand how long it's going to take to shop for…"

Catherine's voice drifted into nothing as she shut the bedroom door behind her.

Sara reasoned in her head that she had at least an hour—possibly more—before Catherine was ready and went into the second bedroom of the suite to retrieve the laptop.

She had barely setup the laptop up on the table in the room when there was a knock at the door. She grabbed her gun from the table and crossed the room warily, hugging the wall out of instinct. She stood off to the side and cleared her throat before speaking.

"Who is it?"

A distinctly feminine voice answered back, "Ms. Flynn, this is Laura Holsom. I'm an Arson Investigator with the Clark County Fire Department. I also have CSI Sofia Curtis with me. We'd like to ask you some questions."

Sara left the U-bar lock on the door and opened it. "Your identifications, please."

The two women each slid their ids through the small opening in the door, which was promptly closed, only to be reopened again.

Sara handed each woman her respective identification back as she extended her arm in toward the expansive penthouse, inviting the women in. "I'm sorry, but I'm sure you can understand the precaution," she said as she closed the door and secured the U-bar lock once again. She held out her hand shaking with the hand that wasn't holding a gun, "I'm Sara Sidle, a friend of Catherine's from D.C."

She holstered her gun and offered a lop-sided grin at both women. "Don't worry," she said as she patted her gun, "I'm licensed to carry."

"Why don't you sit down, get more comfortable? I'll let Catherine know you're here. She's just…getting dressed."

Sara left the two women to sit on the couch while she knocked on Catherine's bedroom door.

"Catherine, there are two investigators here to ask you questions."

Without waiting for a reply, Sara came back and sat in a chair opposite the two women.

The blonde, Sofia Curtis, was the first to speak. "You said you're a friend of Ms. Flynn's. How long have you two known one another?"

Sara turned her head slightly to study the woman as she answered her, "We've known each other for a while now. I'm in town on vacation and was staying with Cath."

She forced a smile as she used a shortened version of Catherine's name to make it sound like she was more familiar with her than she actually was.

"Good," the voice from the Arson Investigator forced Sara to break her focus on Sofia. "You can answer some questions for us as well. Where were you when the fire started?"

"We were upstairs."

"Together?" Sofia Curtis asked.

"We were in my room to begin with and then she went back to her room to shower," Sara explained. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she realized what it sounded like she was implying. She felt the blush creep into her cheeks as the two investigators looked at each other before turning their attention back to Sara. The arson investigator made a note of something in her small notebook.

Before Sara could clear up the obvious misunderstanding, everyone's attention was drawn to the sound of a door being thrown open and Catherine entering the living area of the penthouse.

"I can't believe I have to wear this god damned whatever the hell it is. That fucking concierge is going to lose his fucking job. If Sam lets him keep it, it will be a fucking miracle. No one…" She stopped mid-rant as she finally looked up and noticed the two strangers in her current living accommodations.

"Who the fuck are you? Sidle, why are you still sitting here socializing instead of making arrangements for a car so we can leave? I'm probably going to need a full-body chemical peel after wearing this drab piece of shit," she looked at Sara impatiently and again at the other two women. "What? What are you looking at?"

Sara jumped to her feet and introduced the two women.

"This is Sofia Curtis. She's a CSI. And this is Laura Holsom, an Arson Investigator. They're just here to ask some questions about the fire."

Catherine cut her eyes at Sara and the two women.

"Can't this wait? I mean, look at me," she looked down her body and dramatically moved her hands over the clothes she was wearing. "I look like I should be calling Bingo numbers at the local nursing home. So, you two," she pointed to Laura and Sofia, "will either have to come back or, well, that's about your only choice."

Sofia stood and put one hand on her hip, accentuating not only her slight curves, but the holstered 9mm on her hip. "I don't think you understand, Ms. Flynn. We're investigating the suspicious fire at your home. Our walkthrough of what's left of the home gives us very little to go on. Interviewing the two of you is the best chance we have of finding out what happened."

Catherine stepped into Sofia's space and set her jaw before sternly pressing a finger into her chest. "I don't think _you_ get it. Right now, the most important thing—the most pressing matter—is that I need to go shopping. That's something you," she looked Sofia up and down, "obviously know nothing about."

The arson investigator stood and moved toward the two women. Sara thought better of the situation and stayed back, not wanting to come between the women unless it did turn physical.

Laura broke the visual standoff that Catherine and Sofia were engaged in when she placed her hand on the small of Sofia's back.

"Ms. Flynn's right, Curtis. We can do this later. Why don't we let the couple get back ready to go shopping." She pulled out a two business cards and handed one to Catherine and then one to Sara. "Please call me when it's _convenient_ to finish this interview."

"Wait, what? Couple? What gave you the fucking idea that we're a couple?" Catherine, having realized what the woman said, was incensed.

She turned toward Sara. "What did you tell them?"

Curtis was the first to speak, "It's okay, Ms. Flynn. Your lifestyle is only relevant if it has something to do with our investigation."

"Lifestyle? What?" She turned back to Sara again. "What did you say to them? Did you tell them about the pool? Did you?"

Before Sara could defend herself, Laura interjected, "No, we asked where the two of you were when the fire started. She said that the two of you had been together in her room and then you went to shower in your room."

Anger was rolling off of Catherine in waves as she coldly and quietly said, "You let them believe that we're … that ... that we were fucking?"

Sara ignored Catherine's question and instead opened the door of the penthouse and stood waiting for the women to leave.

Both women hurried toward the door and walked out. As it shut behind them, they flinched at slapping sounded that crept through the door.

"You know," Sofia said as they waited on the elevator, "I've heard the gossip about Catherine Flynn, but never once did it include her and another woman."

"Come on, Curtis. Who hasn't indulged in the pleasure of the softer sex? I'm sure that bitch is no exception."

They stepped inside the elevator and Sofia pressed the L button for the lobby. She couldn't help the smirk that formed on her face when she said, "That brunette was hot though, wasn't she? Who could blame Flynn if that's the case? I know I wouldn't argue about being in her room."

Laura slapped her on the shoulder, "You're incorrigible."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em…

**A/N: I know it's been a while, but I went back and started re-reading some of my stories and thought I might try to finish some that I hadn't touched in, oh, about three or four years. I'm starting with this one. I'm sure it will take me a while to get in full-swing, but at least this is a start.**

A burning red handprint was emblazoned across Sara's cheek while Catherine stood silent, admiring her handiwork and waiting expectantly for whatever retribution was to be repaid.

Instead, an icy silence fell across the room as the two women stood there, staring one another down. Only the soft hum of the air conditioning could be heard over their breathing. When Sara finally moved, Catherine winced, drawing back as though she had expected some delivery of similar pain to be dealt to her. She knew how to deal with people who didn't turn the other cheek. The behavior of Sidle was befuddling. She could spar verbally with her and slice her to shreds with only a few well-placed words, but in the short time they'd been forced to share the same space, there had been a distinct lack of anything physical being returned to Catherine. This kept her off-balance.

"Why the fuck did you let them believe I'd sunk so low as to share a bed with you?" Catherine accused Sara.

Sara brushed past her, picking up the laptop, and shutting it down. She secured it in the room's safe, all the while continuing to ignore Catherine's taunts and glares, neither of which she found impressive enough to warrant a response of any kind.

"Just because you want to fuck me doesn't mean it will happen, Sidle. You need to get a hold on these wet dream fantasies you have about me and you." Catherine took two quick steps toward Sara, invading her personal space. "Just because some WASP teenager fell for whatever lines you fed her to get her into your bed doesn't mean I will. I'd have thought that you would have realized that thinking with your clit could get someone killed since it almost cost the president his daughter." A smug smirk slowly spread across Catherine's face as she saw that her comments struck home with supreme accuracy. "You're all the same. Men. Women. You all want something from me and expect to get it. I'm not going to be your next little whore."

The words had barely left her lips before something inside Sara snapped and she had taken one of Catherine's arms, twisted it behind her back and pushed her up against a wall. One wrist was twisted and pressed into the small of her back by one of Sara's hands and Sara's other arm was planted firmly on the back of Catherine's neck.

"You mistake my silence for weakness, Ms. Flynn. Allow me to impress upon you the fact that you need me more than I need you. Were it not for me, you would most likely already be dead. Any regard I have for you is purely professional. As you have so astutely pointed out, I have firsthand experience with the fact that business and pleasure don't mix. And I would never mistakenly believe that anything from you would be something other than business since we both know you require money upfront where pleasure is concerned." Sara gave Catherine's wrist a sharp twist and leaned more heavily against her neck with her arm. "And if you ever again fucking imply that she was a whore, your wrist will be the first bone I snap and those fragile little bones in your neck will be the last ones you hear crack."

Catherine, although incensed that someone had the gall to speak to her like Sara was doing now, was in no position to fight back, much less respond. Rage was boiling over inside her, but she quickly tampened it down, hoping that Sara would ease up on her and allow some blood and oxygen to flow again.

When Sara felt the fight leave Catherine's body, she pushed off of her and took a step back. Without looking at her, she said coolly, "I'm paid to protect you, but if you cross that line again you need to understand that there's no one here to protect you from me, Ms. Flynn."


End file.
